From a Fiery Hearth
by Johanna Night
Summary: When he was fifteen, he had captured Hestia's heart; when he was sixteen, he accidentally broke it.


**I do not Own Pjo.**

* * *

She watched him grow up.

* * *

The first year at camp, he was scrawny.

They carried him past her and into the infirmary, and that was the last she saw. Athena's daughter Annabeth snuck carefully inside, and Hestia watched with almost a hint of longing.

She sat, huddled by the flames, and watched him as he glanced around. His startling green eyes settled on the pavilion, then the cabins, and then finally on her. It was the first time someone had seen her for a long, long time.

When he emerged from the Big House, there was a wild look to his eyes, like someone had just told him the world was falling apart. But behind that, there was the note of weary acceptance.

He knew they were telling the truth.

At dinner, she found his name was Perseus, like the son of Zeus. Immediately she realized exactly who his father was, and inwardly she pitied him. Being the son of one of the Big Three was never any good.

But somewhere inside she wanted to see how it played out.

The capture the flag game was the most eventful in a long time. She watched, cloaked with shadows, as he struck down one warrior after another. The look on Annabeth's face told her she, too, had realized his family.

It didn't come as a surprise when the trident materialized over his head.

* * *

When he was thirteen, he was oblivious.

He was oblivious to the way Annabeth glanced at him, so incredibly dense. As heroic as always, but never realizing what he was doing. Never seeking any reward.

The day Tantalus showed up, she fervently prayed that Percy wouldn't show up. The new activities director was a dictator, one with a hardened heart from millennia of punishment.

She knew it was a bad choice to choose someone like him to direct little kids. And indeed it was, and she cursed her brother in her mind for acting against logic, acting on our desperation alone.

"Do you not think Chiron should get the benefit of the doubt?" Athena had asked, her ever thoughtful gray eyes narrowing in consideration. For the first time, Poseidon nodded to his rival's suggestion.

"Nonsense," her youngest brother had bellowed. Worry for his daughter's life had soured his expression and steeled his eyes. "He is guilty and shall be banished until it is proven otherwise."

Hestia hadn't been able to get a word in. She doubted it would've mattered.

But against all her hope, he showed up, pulling across the camp borders with a baby cyclops in tow. From the look on her face, she knew that he had yet to realize who Tyson was.

Then the bronze bulls charged and all she thought was, 'he can't die now.'

Miraculously, he survived. His expression was heartbreaking, like realizing what was once home was no longer one. The fire burned dangerously low that night as she thought, unlike her peaceful nature, of ways to strangle Tantalus.

* * *

A half a year later, he was nothing but brave.

The three stood stooped at the front of the council, a odd trio of two children of the big three and one of Athena. They suited each other, supporting one another almost unconsciously.

Grover the satyr rushed over, gesturing hastily with his hands at the sphe of water containing the Ophiotaurus.

Something burned uncomfortably as she took in Thalia's shocked expression to her father's smile. Poseidon regarded his son calmly, and Percy visibly relaxed when his eye crinkled up at the corners.

The three of them stared up at the council of gods. Hestia couldn't help but feel a sense of dread at the way the gods shifted.

"You can't let them do it!" The satyr hissed. He sent a glance in her direction, either intentionally or on instinct. For a second, their eyes met, and she managed a warm smile.

She watched the gods bicker, and a flicker of pride burst as Percy convinced the gods to keep the sea creature alive.

Then Artemis stood.

His face turned ashen gray. He cast a glance from the corner of his eye, pupils dilating as his breathing quickened. Annabeth cast him a puzzled glance, but when he opened his mouth to speak nothing emerged.

When Thalia became the Lieutenant of the Hunters, the relief was evident.

As he left Olympus, she saw him as nothing but heroic.

* * *

His fourth year, he was dangerous.

She watched as Annabeth kissed him goodbye through Iris message, and the dazed look on his face made her worry before the message dissolved into air. the last thing she heard was the clattering of laughter.

Later she found that he had, quite literally, erupted a volcano. What was worse, he was currently residing on Calypso's island, and Hestia feared that he would fail to come back.

She was wrong.

When he showed up, tattered but still alive, Hestia could only watch as Annabeth threw her arms around him and squeezed like he would disappear. Something pulled at the bottom of her heart.

Then she was screaming, "Where have you been?!" And the abashed look on Percy's face was enough to make her smile.

He left again all too soon.

She never suspected Quintus, but she supposed that his disappearance was rather suspicious. Immediately word spread that he was a spy, and the camp lost its trust in all newcomers,

Then Percy returned, and when he told the camp the news that her father had really and truly risen, she could hardly believe it.

And then Quintus was really Daedalus, and even for a goddess it was confusing. The battle of the Labyrinth happened before she could get used to things, and suddenly Daedalus was gone.

When he left for a third time, she realized—when he was fifteen he had captured her heart.

* * *

The year of the prophecy he was a hero.

When word spread throughout the camp that Beckendorf and Percy had left to bomb the Princess Andromeda, the hearth had exploded in a blast of flame. Campers screamed, and sheepishly she boxed her frustration and dissolved it into nothingness.

Then he came back, without Charles, and she watched Silena cry. Percy stood awkwardly on the sidelines.

His expression was hollow, filled with grief that shouldn't reside on a teenager s face, and he hardly glanced at her before he slipped into his cabin. He didn't come out for the rest of the day.

She was overjoyed when Nico and he came to ask her for advice. To her, it was a sign, a symbol that she was wanted despite her minor role in society. Still, it was gratifying watching them scarf down her food like it was ambrosia itself.

They scarfed down her knowledge just as quickly.

When she heard that Percy had dived into the River Styx, she knew that Annabeth was his anchor. She was happy for him and for her, though a tiny part of her was more than remotely jealous.

The battle for Olympus was long and dreary.

She did what she could, and when the news came that Typhoon was destroyed, she joined the others on Olympus as a final stand. the last thing Hestia expected to see was the three of them, standing over the body of a broken half blood.

She was devastated when he refused immortality, all for Annabeth. They would go on to have a long, happy life—she could already see it.

When Percy Jackson was sixteen, he was a heartbreaker.

**a/n: thanks for reading!**


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